


encore

by fiction fetishist (fictionfetishist)



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-15
Updated: 2013-05-15
Packaged: 2017-12-11 23:03:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/804255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionfetishist/pseuds/fiction%20fetishist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Oh, come on now, Shin-chan,” Takao teases, grinding against him. “It’s called ‘fanservice’.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	encore

**Author's Note:**

> i actually wanted to write some more but whenever i try i just end up melting into this incoherent puddle of takamido feels orz i'm so sorry for this hot mess.

“Shin-chan,” Takao whines, working his way even further into Midorima’s personal space. “You gotta give me something more to work with here,” he complains, his hands roaming around Midorima’s back, dangerously making their way further downward.

Midorima stiffens, unsure how to move with Takao literally all over him. “I simply fail to see how this is relevant,” he reasons. “We’re idols; we’re supposed to sing, not,” he attempts to gesture with his hands, finding it difficult the way every movement only seems to bring Takao closer to him. “Not do these indecent things,” he finishes, pushing up his glasses with his hand, an attempt to distract himself from the sly grin blossoming on Takao’s face.

“Oh, come on now, Shin-chan,” Takao teases, grinding against him. “It’s called ‘fanservice’. Don’t tell me you didn’t have it in your old group.”

Midorima sputters, unwilling to acknowledge the strange fluttering in his stomach Takao’s actions seem to bring. “We most certainly did not,” he assures, but quickly reconsiders his statement upon recalling unfortunate instances of Kise attempting to force his tongue down Kuroko’s throat every time they shared a mic. “Well,” he corrects, “ _I_ didn’t, anyway.”

“Aww, Shin-chan,” Takao laughs, the way his shoulders shake and the way his breath lands on Midorima’s chest not entirely unnoticed. “Don’t tell me, no one wanted to be your partner?”

Midorima looks away, pushing his glasses up again, a futile attempt. “The feeling was mutual.”

Takao laughs again, lower this time, a hint of something conspiratory lurking beneath the surface. “Well, don’t worry, Shin-chan. You’ve got me now,” he declares, and pulls down Midorima’s head so he can whisper into his ear, “I’ll even let you do what _ever_ you want.”

“I—” is all Midorima can afford to say in reply, his brain having short-circuited moments prior.

“What’s that, Shin-chan?” Takao asks, breathing into his ear, his hands threatening to do something deviant as they tug at the hem of his shirt. “I can’t hear you if you don’t speak up.”

“I,” Midorima tries again, willing away the strange burning sensation within him Takao is inspiring with his indecency, “still fail to see how this is at all relevant,” and, when he has mustered the strength to successfully pry Takao off of him, “We should be focusing on our singing.”

“We did that earlier,” Takao replies. “Besides,” he adds, closing the gap between them yet again, “nothing gets our fans off more than us getting off on each other.”

Midorima balks. “As I said, I fail to see how our fans’ ‘getting off’ is in any way of our concern.”

“You see,” Takao says, poking a finger at Midorima’s chest, “ _this_ is probably no one wanted to do it with you.”

“You’re always welcome to pair up with someone else, Takao.” Yes, Midorima thinks, this is it. Takao should realize by now how pointless this endeavor is, and Midorima can purge this shameful episode from his memory, preferably immediately.

“Nah,” Takao says instead, far too cheerfully enjoying Midorima’s discomfort, “It’s more fun this way. Don’t you think so, too, Shin-chan?”

No, is what Midorima would have said, but Takao pulls him down and presses their lips together before he has a chance. It’s not a kiss, Midorima tells himself, because that would mean certain things he’s not sure he can process right now. It’s not, he tells himself again, it’s just Takao being extremely inappropriate, with the way his tongue darts out for more, parting Midorima’s lips open and plunging in, making strangled moans and whimpers that leave Midorima breathless.

Takao’s hands are no better, continuing to touch him all over, one eventually settling on his hair, running his fingers through it, ruining this morning’s efforts to keep it neat, while the other rests on the small of his back, pushing them closer together, the resulting friction clouding Midorima’s already questionable judgment.

More, his brain says, despite himself—or maybe because of himself, Midorima’s not quite sure anymore. All he knows is that Takao hasn’t stopped yet, a fact he doesn’t seem to mind as much as he should, enjoying the way Takao fits against him, moves with him. All this time they’ve spent together has eroded all of his common sense, clearly.

“See, Shin-chan?” Takao says, the flush on his face when they part for air crumbling what Midorima has left of his sanity. “That wasn’t so bad, now was it?”

“It was,” Midorima says, after a while, but meets Takao halfway when he leans in again anyway.


End file.
